Mission Statement

I'm beginning to think Weird Al is living inside my head. 

http://m.youtube.com/watch?v=0jG6e1AB5_M

Word Crimes

Weird Al tackles a Robin Thicke song -- and diagrams sentences. It's a win-win situation, people.

Verbing: the Dumbing Down of America

 

Noun: a word that is the name of something (such as a person, animal, place, thing, quality, idea, or action) and is typically used in a sentence as subject or object of a verb or as object of a preposition

Verb: a word (such as jump, think, happen, or exist) that is usually one of the main parts of a sentence and that expresses an action, an occurrence, or a state of being

Here's something that makes my right eye twitch with extreme levels of annoyance: turning nouns into verbs. Verbing is nothing new. People have been transforming words and creating new ones for quite some time. "I’ll pencil you in for tomorrow." "We are co-parenting." Heck, the 1552 Book of Common Prayer includes a service called the Churching of Women. I get it. It's a handy shortcut.

In fact, over time, some nouns have so successfully made the verb transition that we don't even realize they haven't always been verbs: "Stop horsing around." "You can't outfox your mom." "I'll phone you when I get  home." "She tried to guilt me into going with her." 

Language is organic and is in a constant state of flux. As society evolves, new words emerge. And technology is speeding up this trend: "Is Google headquartered in California? I'm not sure. I'll Google it." "Inbox me." "I'll friend you on Facebook." "Let me bookmark that." "Hey, verbing is trending on Twitter!" Trust me, I get it.

The problem comes when verbing turns nice, decent nouns into awkward, unnecessary verbs. Adding -ed, -ify, or -ize to a noun does not automatically give you a great new word. People deplane. Food gets plated. People have lost jobs when their company rightsized. But here's the thing: Verbing, or what we language dorks call denominalization, is a democratic process. The more we use new words, the more deeply they become ingrained into the English language until we no longer see them as oddities. Through our spoken and written word, we vote these new candidates into office.

So, on behalf of word nerds everywhere, I am asking you kindly -- especially you, corporate America: Please don't vote for these guys.

• Impacting: "Her attitude is impacting everyone in the class." I'm sure this is the layman's way of dancing around whether to use affecting or effecting. Let's clear it up. It's affecting. 
• Incentivize: "Leaders must incentivize people to work harder." What's wrong with encourage or motivate or even the long but more language-friendly "give people incentives"?
• Authored: "She has authored three best-selling books." Nope. She wrote them.
• Dialogue: "We'll have a meeting to dialogue about that." You're talking, people, not dialoguing. Your conversation won't be sharper, wittier or more productive just because you call it dialoguing or, even worse, conversating.
• Conference: "We need to conference before that client meeting." No, ma'am. Let's meet instead.
• Monetize: "I need to find ways to monetize this blog." Well, if I had a dollar for every time I have read the word monetize while editing a business publication, I wouldn't have to look for ways to make money anywhere else.
• Architect: "I'm going to architect a plan that will save us thousands of dollars." No, you're not. You're designing, creating or writing a plan.
• Learnings: "In our wrap-up session, we distilled the key learnings from the conference." What's wrong with lessons? 
• Leverage: I can't even begin to list the plethora of things I have read that companies are leveraging. As Forbes said, "Meet the granddaddy of nouns converted to verbs. 'Leverage' is mercilessly used to describe how a situation or environment can be manipulated or controlled. Leverage should remain a noun, as in 'to apply leverage,' not as a pseudo-verb, as in 'we are leveraging our assets.'" It's a useless word. Most writers mean "use." "If we leverage our best players, we will win the game." Use them, or put them in the game, or let them play. Just please don't leverage them.

So I thank you for your support and encourage you to get out there and vote. Just don't vote for the pretentious candidates: actualize, conceptualize, and operationalize.

 

Literally

Let's Get the Basics Out of the Way

My sickness here goes much deeper than the ubiquitous you’re versus your, it’s and its, and there, they're, their. Those writers just need to go back to elementary school. I mean, come on. It's not that hard. However, just for the record, let's get the basics out of the way.
 
The apostrophe is used to mark omissions and possessives of nouns and pronouns. I know: That one sentence made me sound like a dork. Guess what? I don't care. I embraced my inner dork a long time ago. But here. Let me explain: A noun is a person, place or thing. A pronoun substitutes for a noun. Here's an example: "Sharon is a word nerd. She embraces it." In these sentences, Sharon and nerd are the nouns, and She and it are the pronouns. Can we move on now?
 
Let's deal with omissions first. I'm talking about contractions here. Please tell me you know what a contraction is. It's a shortened form of a word. It's a word that got rear-ended and a letter popped out: it's, don't, can't, you'll, whate'er. (I hate that last one, by the way, and not for any good reason. It's just annoying.) Anyway, in a contraction, an apostrophe indicates that a word or part of a word is missing: it's is missing the i from is, and they're is missing the a from are. Just think of that little apostrophe as a placeholder. The little bugger broke in line and is holding a spot for his missing letter friend.
 
Now, let's move on to apostrophes used for possessive nouns and pronouns. Possessive in this case doesn't mean the words are greedy. It means they own something. So in this sentence -- "Sharon's AP Stylebook looks like it's seen better days." -- the first apostrophe is possessive. I own that stylebook. Yes, ma'am. I really do. (And that apostrophe replaces the d in madam. I know. I just blew your mind, right? You're welcome.) The second apostrophe is for a contraction in which the a in has has gone missing. 
 
So stop using that tiny apostrophe to try to kill me. Don't use him when the word you're jamming him into is neither a contraction nor a possessive word. I can feel myself dying a little when I see your beautiful Christmas cards with lovely pictures of your beautiful children -- and then you sign it like this: Merry Christmas from the Smith's. No, ma'am! Well, unless you're really the Smith Is family. Then I could let that one go.

Random Quotation Marks

Today’s editing pet peeve is random quotation marks.

First of all, there’s no need to add quote marks around colloquialisms. Only “word nerds” will appreciate this post. I’ll probably get “dumped on” for being such a “grammar snob.” (Ug. I got a little twitchy just typing that.) Trust your readers to know a common expression or figure or speech when they see one.

And please don't use quotes—or underlining, bolding or italicizing, for that matter—for words you want to emphasize. Using quote marks or formatting to draw attention to a word or phrase is a weak tool. (Ouch. That one hurt a little.) Refine your writing. Choose stronger, more descriptive words that stand on their own to communicate your message. Better yet, hire a freelance writer or editor.

The Holy Grail of editing books, The Elements of Style by Strunk and White, says it best: “If you use a colloquialism or a slang word or phrase, simply use it; do not draw attention to it by enclosing it in quotation marks. To do so is to put on airs, as though you were inviting the reader to join you in a select society of those who know better.”

There. Rant over. I feel better now.

That's It. I Can't Take It Anymore.

At the risk of being a word snob, I'm just going to put this out there: Words sometimes drive me a little nutty. To be more specific, bad writing drives me insane. The problem, you see, is that words are my vice. I love them. But when used incorrectly, words for me are like Kryptonite. (And yes, some days I do think I'm a superhero.) I think if you piled up enough of my editing pet peeves into one document, it just might kill me. I'm not saying my writing is perfect by any means. Heck, if I was to publish something of my own, I'd hire an editor too. When we write, we are simply too close to the words. Everyone needs an editor. (Note to self: Get Jenny to read this blog.)

But words are powerful, right? I can remember being filled with wonder from an early age, probably 10 or so, about the meaning and correct spelling of words. I fell in love with words like Episcopalian and defenestrate. Not that they go together. I mean, I'm not suggesting we start throwing Protestants out the window by any means. Some words just have an inherent beauty. Plethora. Conundrum. Ephemeral. Portmanteau. Serendipity. (Serendipity was the title of my sixth-grade literature book. Why do I remember these things?) I had a colleague once tell me that it wasn't too late for me to enter the Miss South Carolina Pageant. Despite my advanced age, he said, I could win it by simply spelling the word triskaidekaphobia.

Now I'm making my living fixing up other people's words, dressing them up so they are fit for public viewing. However, some things just drive me crazy. I find myself clamping my lips shut sometimes when friends write things that are just so very wrong. Irregardless? Come on, people. That's not even a word.

Yes, I admit it. Hi, my name is Sharon. I am a grammar snob. And I'm saving the world one grammatical mistake at a time.